JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

The Book of Two Ways by Jodi Picoult

Dawn Edelstein knows everything there is to know about dying. She specialises in helping her clients make peace with the end of their lives. But as she’s flying home from her latest case, she is forced to confront her own mortality for the first time.

Instead of seeing her brilliant quantum physicist husband and their beloved daughter flash before her eyes in what she assumes are her last moments, only one face is shockingly clear: Wyatt Armstrong.

Safely on the ground, Dawn now faces a desperate decision. Should she return to Boston, her family and the life she knows, or journey back to an Egyptian archaeological site she left over a decade earlier, reconnect with Wyatt, and finally finish her abandoned magnum opus, The Book of Two Ways?

As the story unfolds, Dawn must confront the questions she’s never truly answered: What does a life well-lived look like? When we depart this earth, what do we leave behind of ourselves? And who would you be if you hadn’t turned out to be the person you are right now?

Another book that delves into human morality and the intricacies of life, Jodi Picoult’s latest novel The Book of Two Ways explores the power of choices, destiny, and the temptation of exploring another path.

When Dawn survives a plane crash, the experience prompts her to flee to Egypt to reconnect with her long lost love, temporarily abandoning her husband and daughter in the process.

The chronology of the book is, at times, incredibly confusing. It moves between Egypt, where Dawn is reconnecting with her ex-boyfriend, and the present, after Dawn has returned home to Boston and is living through a stale and forced marriage with quantum physicist Brian. But, scattered throughout, there are also flashbacks to much further in the past, when Dawn was a graduate student in Egyptology and falling in love, when her mother died unexpectedly and she had to quit her career and her relationship in order to take care of her thirteen-year-old brother Kieran.

Truthfully, there was quite a fair chunk of time where I couldn’t work out whether the Egypt timeline was in the past, or in the present and therefore perhaps the Boston storyline was the past. Perhaps this was deliberate, but it was still quite the confusing read.

“Here’s the insane thing about resuming your old life when it’s nearly ended: it is business as usual. Your heart may be broken, your nerves may be shattered, but the trash needs to be taken out. Groceries must be bought. You have to fill your car with gas. People still depend on you.”

Fans of Jodi Picoult will recognise themes from her earlier works — parenthood, obligation, motherhood, the limits of love, and the complex, multi-layered nature of a relationship. At times, it’s hard to know which man we want Dawn to choose, but this book is so much more than that.

There’s a lot of death in it — a lot. Dawn now works as a death doula, helping people organise the perfect death, and she’s confronted with mortality everyday. Readers can’t help but contemplate their own life choices, and perhaps you’ll be left wondering how your life might’ve been different if you made different decisions. It’s a beast of a theme to tackle in a book, incredibly high-concept, but I think Jodi does it quite well.

“Even without looking, I can feel him staring at me. The air feels heavier. And then, as if someone has broken the glass of a window during an inferno, I can suddenly breathe.”

At its core, The Book of Two Ways explores love and romance. We meet Dawn and Brian after they’ve been together for 15 years, having raised a child. Their relationship is a routine, it’s comfortable, not overly exciting. But we also meet Dawn and Wyatt in the past, when their relationship is budding — it’s a lot more inviting, exciting and emotional. It’s two young adults with a lot more in common falling in love, and then being torn apart when the real world comes calling.

“It is virtually impossible to put a price on a good death. Right now, death doulas are for people who can afford them, because Medicare doesn’t have the good sense to cover our services the way they cover hospice care.”

Admittedly, Dawn isn’t overly relatable and can be a pretty unlikable character at times. No spoilers, but her decisions are…questionable at best. Also, there are quite a lot of info dumps in the book — intense, excessive dialogue about philosophy, or Egyptology, parallel wolds or physics. Perhaps realistic to the conversation happening, but not always necessary to include?

Moving, insightful, and encouraging readers to contemplate their own morality and life choices, The Book of Two Ways, is recommended for fans of literary fiction, women’s fiction, family sagas, and historical fiction. Bonus points if you have an interest in ancient Egypt.

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Book of Two Ways
Jodi Picoult
October 2020
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

A Girl Made of Air by Nydia Hetherington

This is the story of The Greatest Funambulist Who Ever Lived…

Born into a post-war circus family, our nameless star was unwanted and forgotten, abandoned in the shadows of the big top. Until the bright light of Serendipity Wilson threw her into focus.

Now an adult, haunted by an incident in which a child was lost from the circus, our narrator, a tightrope artiste, weaves together her spellbinding tales of circus legends, earthy magic and folklore, all in the hope of finding the child… But will her story be enough to bring the pair together again?

Poetic, literary fiction that transcends generations, Nydia Hetherington’s A Girl Made of Air will captivate and entice readers.

Told from the perspective of a nameless narrator — she’s only ever nicknamed Mouse — A Girl Made of Air is primarily set within a circus. Our female narrator is born into a famous circus family. Her mother is a beautiful, revered and coveted performer, but is scarred from the birth of her child. After giving birth to the narrator, she is mentally unable to connect with her and does very little in her role as mother. The narrator’s only connection with a blood relative is her father, who is kind and communicative, but not overly forthcoming or parental in his nature.

The narrator bonds with a red-haired funambulist named Serendipity Wilson, and the two form a strong friendship. Serendipity’s training allows the narrator to achieve levels of success and fame that would not have been possible otherwise.

“I’ve grown tall like my mother, limbs stretched and long, but I’m ungainly. I don’t know how to manage my body, which, at now eleven years old (or thereabouts), has outgrown me. My walk is clumsy, off-kilter; my hands great shovels that swing hopelessly about, propelled seemingly without my instruction by over-long arms.”

The book follows an interesting structure. It opens in present day 1983, where the protagonist is well-known for her performative success. She’s in the midst of an interview with a journalist from The New York Times, talking about her career but also her connection with the mysterious Serendipity Wilson. After the interview is cut short, the protagonist then writes down the story of her life to date — emanating the feel of a memoir or a long-form letter, told chronologically. Interwoven throughout the novel are mythical tales that Serendipity herself passed along to our main character.

A chronological retelling felt like the most suitable structure for this book, because it allowed the present-day-protagonist to reflect on her past as she was telling her story. Interspersed throughout moments of memories, the protagonist will offer readers glimpses of insight. The ‘voice’ is mature and intelligent, and her reflection and hindsight allows for an engaging and attentive read.

“There are several blank pages after this. It’s odd that I should have left the pages blank. Maybe it was a statement, something about life being empty; the sort of thing young people do. This isn’t how I remember things. The events happened exactly as they’re written, yet I cannot find myself in the words.”

A Girl Made of Air features a strong cast of characters, sometimes so vibrant and lively they feel crafted as cartoons — Fausto the Ringmaster, Manu, Marina, Big Gen, and of course, the notorious Serendipity Wilson, who always feels a little out of reach and never fully understood (not a bad thing).

Serendipity is by far the most intriguing of the secondary characters. We only ever interact with her through the protagonist’s memories, so there are definitely holes in her personality, her backstory, and her feelings towards the man character that we never fully understand.

For a time, Serendipity is like a mother figure for our protagonist — attentive and maternal. But she’s also free and spritely, and galavants around on her own to live her own fantastical adventures. There’s definitely an obsession that forms, from our protagonist. She meddles in Serendipity’s life in ways that have ramifications many years after.

“I sat for a moment on a colourful lion, stroked its chipped nose. From there I could see over the encampment. The big top — a round, blue-and-white-striped leviathan with pointed tip, topped off with a jolly yellow flag that called to passers-by as it flapped in the breeze — dominated everything.”

Our protagonist may be flawed, but she’s also a child for most of the book so the reader empathises for her. She was raised in less-than-ideal circumstances, with a distanced and reclusive mother who never really loved her. You warm to the protagonist very early on, and you keep reading to find out how her tale progresses.

A Girl Made of Air is quirky and unusual, but also dark and inviting. Mythical and magical, and reflective of an apology — a plea for redemption. A Girl Made of Air is recommended for all readers.

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

A Girl Made of Air
Nydia Hetherington
September 2020
Hachette Book Publishers

Hermit by S.R. White

After a puzzling death in the wild bushlands of Australia, detective Dana Russo has just hours to interrogate the prime suspect – a silent, inscrutable man found at the scene of the crime, who disappeared without trace 15 years earlier.

But where has he been? Why won’t he talk? And exactly how dangerous is he? Without conclusive evidence to prove his guilt, Dana faces a desperate race against time to persuade him to speak. But as each interview spirals with fevered intensity, Dana must reckon with her own traumatic past to reveal the shocking truth . . .

S.R. White’s Hermit is an atmospheric and addictive psychological thriller. Set over the course of one day, detective Dana Russo has just 12 hours to interrogate the prime suspect in a murder case — a reclusive, mysterious man found at the scene of the crime, who hasn’t been seen or heard from in fifteen years and is reluctant to divulge any details to the police. Dana must follow her instincts to uncover the truth about the murder.

Set in rural Australia, S.R. White has captured the remote, secluded atmosphere of the desolate outback. Households are distanced but neighbours are nosy. Gossip runs rife through the town, and every family is hiding some sort of secret.

“Mike wasn’t veering towards the most common kinds of stabbings — drug arguments gone bad, gang wars, disrespected teenagers. Partly because they usually happened in the street, or at a location known to police already. Partly because those kinds of crimes rarely if ever happened just before dawn.”

With no CCTV, murder weapon or forensics to work with, Dana must rely on the suspect to reveal what happened, and it certainly makes for a unique crime novel.

Despite a great portion of the novel taking place within the walls of a police interview room, there are still a lot of divergence in setting. Dana and her colleagues interview different people around town — those relating to Lou and his wife, and those relating to the mysterious man found at the scene, Nathan.

The strength of this novel lies in the investigation — Dana illustrates great skill in reading other people, understanding their behaviour, and her ability to unpack Nathan’s psyche proves fascinating and enjoyable. Every conversation feels like a carefully constructed game of cat and mouse, tension rising and falling, pacing altering with every passing page. My attention never wavered.

“Because of the solitary stab wound, Dana had expected the knife to be on the floor. A single stab in panic, in the midst of a scuffle, usually prompted the stabber to drop the blade and flee. At the very least, they let go in shock at what they’d done, or in disbelief that the person in front of them was dying. That didn’t seem to have happened here.”

The concept of the ‘hermit’ is an interesting one, and executed in a way that felt fresh to the genre. I was fascinated to find out more about Nathan’s history. Where has he been for 15 years? How has he survived? Why did he leave and what dangers will suddenly arise now that he’s resurfaced?

Additionally, Hermit subtly explores themes of mental health and suicide. In the opening chapter, Dana is sitting atop a cliff contemplating plunging to her and death and trying to make it look like an accident. Every year, on this exact day, she takes annual leave and spends all day trying to decide if she should kill herself. It’s an incredibly vulnerable time for Dana, and when she’s thrust into a murder investigation unexpectedly, it throws her plans. Readers will feel a close kinship with Dana, even if they don’t necessarily relate to her. She’s intelligent and bolshy, but she also evokes empathy and sympathy in the reader.

“No response. Although he shivered: seemingly involuntarily, judging by his slight grimace. Any body language, any inflection — let alone any comment — appeared to him an unconscionable degree of exposure on his part. Perhaps he would prefer total darkness, or to be a disembodied voice: being visible and tangible was apparently unfamiliar, worrying.”

Admittedly, I found the ending a little unsatisfying. The concept of the ‘day’ that Dana keeps talking about, and what it means for her, fizzles out in the end, with no real resolution. Additionally, we’re set up to find out some of Dana’s backstory but it’s only partly revealed and feels like an info dump — unnatural, jolting.

Despite these minor flaws, I really enjoyed Hermit. An original, gripping and captivating thriller that readers will love. Recommended for fans of crime, thriller and mystery.

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

Hermit
S.R. White
September 2020
Hachette Book Publishers

Either Side of Midnight by Benjamin Stevenson

At 9.01 pm, TV presenter Sam Midford delivers the monologue for his popular current affairs show Midnight Tonight. He seems nervous and the crew are convinced he’s about to propose to his girlfriend live on air.

Instead, he pulls out a gun and shoots himself in the head.

Sam’s grief-stricken twin Harry is convinced his brother was murdered. But how can that be, when one million viewers witnessed Sam pull the trigger? Only Jack Quick, a disgraced television producer in the last days of a prison sentence, is desperate enough to take Harry’s money to investigate.

But as Jack starts digging, he finds a mystery more complex than he first assumed. And if he’s not careful, he’ll find out first-hand that there’s more than one way to kill someone . . .

Australian author Benjamin Stevenson publishes his second crime novel Either Side of Midnight, and it’s another page-turning, fast-paced, high-tension masterpiece. Either Side of Midnight wraps its claws around the reader, drawing them closer with each passing chapter. Readers will have no choice but the ride the rollercoaster of this novel.

Fans of Benjamin’s previous novel, Greenlight, will recognise disgraced TV documentarian Jack Quick as the protagonist. He’s been serving a prison sentence after the events in Greenlight, and when he’s released, he accepts the paid opportunity investigating news anchor Sam Midford’s suicide. Jack is thrust back into the world he’d left behind — another suspicious death, more deceitful suspects, and plenty more complex and complicated truths.

Either Side of Midnight explores the power of technology, and how easily words can influence others. Services aren’t yet equipped to handle criminal cases where technology is used as a weapon.

“Jack hadn’t been prepared enough to come back here. The whole building was triggering. The epileptic rotation of adverts. The rustle of the ground floor. Any of the bathrooms where, sometimes, at ten in the morning, Jack on his knees and a man snorting a line off the basin would lock eyes conspiratorially.”

Once again, we’re thrust back into Jack’s world, quickly remembering what made us like him so much the first time around. He’s flawed, but likeable. Relatable. He’s calculated and intelligent — quick to join the dots in the case. Dialogue is quick and blunt, Benjamin only using as many words as necessary to keep the pacing consistent, to keep the story moving forward.

Chapters end with revelations and unveilings, drawing the reader in and forcing them to keep reading. Benjamin is incredibly talented at dropping hints and clues without the reader feeling like they can guess the ending.

“Harry didn’t know if he slept. The night blurred past, timeless. Some moments he was counting the seconds, and others he seemed to zone out and when he zoned back… was the moon in a different spot? Time must have passed.”

Set in Sydney, an underlying theme is familial loyalty, and processing feelings of regret. Jack is still dealing with an accident from his childhood that left his brother in a permanent vegetive state and entirely reliant on care. Jack’s father has been forced to take on the burden of his son’s care while Jack has been in prison, and Jack feels deep regret.

There isn’t much I can fault with this novel. The cast of characters are three-dimensional and engrossing, the plot feels original and incredibly inviting, and Benjamin has incredible skill crafting scrumptious crime/thriller novels.

“It’s a cliche in film and television to present recent widows as brittle, frail. To have the make-up team use pale foundation, ghost-like, and smear dark circles under their eyes. Every time a widow opens a door in a film, they’ve just finished crying. The message being that, without their husband, they are barely keeping it together.”

Recommended for fans of crime and thriller. Readers don’t need to read Greenlight to understand or follow the events in this new novel — Either Side of Midnight functions as a standalone.

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

Either Side of Midnight
Benjamin Stevenson
September 2020
Penguin Book Publishers Australia

The Orphan of Good Hope by Roxane Dhand

Transport yourself from the canals of Amsterdam, across the waves, to the rough-and-tumble frontier town at the Cape of Good Hope.

In 1683 life is gruelling for the young women in Amsterdam’s civic orphanage. The sole light in Johanna Timmerman’s existence is her forbidden love for Frans, an orphan in the boys’ section who has a smile like sunshine. Then he is gone, whisked across the globe to the Dutch East India Company’s nascent colony at Good Hope.

Floriane Peronneau’s privileged world is pleasant and fulfilling until she discovers that it is all built on lies. Far from being the devoted gentleman he seems, her husband Claes is a womanizing degenerate who has led them to the edge of ruin. And the forces are closing in on him.

While Johanna’s love drives her to make a shocking bargain to secure passage to the Cape, Floriane is caught in a terrifying game of cat and mouse. The two women’s lives could not be more different. Yet, on the long, dangerous voyage to the southern tip of Africa, they will become the best of friends – and co-conspirators . . .

Roxane Dhand’s historical fiction novel The Orphan of Good Hope is a sweeping saga about family, inheritance, truth, friendship and fighting for what’s just. Featuring multiple settings and grandiose locations, The Orphan of Good Hope features two strong female protagonists as they fight for their place in a world dominated by dishonest men.

Setting is a leading strength in Roxane’s novel. Initially, we’re engulfed in the canals of Amsterdam; readers will feel enticed and seduced by the European location. Johanna, in particular, feels most at home here. She’s hopeful and uplifted by those around her, and she’s falling in love with fellow orphan Frans. There’s a lot ahead of her.

Whilst we do spend a portion of the book in South Africa, the time spent aboard the ship is where Johanna and Floriane’s journeys really flourish. Here, there’s opportunity. Johanna is determined to pursue the connection with her love interest, and Floriane endeavours to extricate herself from her cheating, thieving husband.

I do think there was more scope to incorporate the weather. In all locations, most scenes are set indoors but there still felt like a distinct lack of temperature or scenery embedded into the chapters. How did the bitter snap of Amsterdam make the ladies feel? And how does this compare the windswept journey aboard the ship? Did they feel more free? And in South Africa, the heat? The landscape? I felt like Roxane never really focused on any of these elements, and it was a missed opportunity to set the locations apart.

“Almost eight years ago, Johanna had made this journey in reverse, but her memories were no help now. She followed behind as they turned right on Kalverstraat, crossed over Dam Square with its town hall and weighing house, and traipsed across a humped bridge to where people, crowds of them, shouted and jostled on the greasy cobbles.”

Split into three parts, The Orphan of Good Hope is written in intimate third person POV, allowing the reader to move between Johanna and Floriane’s perspectives. Johanna is young, but intelligent. She’s mature and measured. She takes chances; she’s distracted by love and the future, but she’s also cautious about her surroundings and her unknown future. Floriane, on the other hand, is older but a little daft. She’s oblivious to her husband’s secrets, and a little slow to catch on. It likely stems from her privilege in society. Whilst she eventually forges a path for herself, determined to leave her husband behind, it did take a bit of time to warm to Floriane. She’s not as relatable.

At times, the POV was a little stilted — the transitions weren’t always seamless — particularly because for most of the novel, Floriane and Johanna were in the same location so it was a little tougher to initially tell the two perspectives apart.

Despite this, I did really enjoy The Orphan of Good Hope. I always gravitate towards historical fiction, particularly any that have strong female protagonists. The exotic locations drew me into the story, and the plot and twists kept me turning the pages. I was determined to find out how Floriane and Johnana’s stories would resolve, and what their lives would look like at the end of the book.

“He crept away without interrupting them, but anger was boiling within him. Backed into a recess at the side of the ship, Claes concealed himself in darkness and chewed on his lip till blood seeped into his mouth. Slipping his hand inside his coat, he fingered his short-bladed dagger in its sheath at his belt.”

Layered within the story are hints of violence, betrayal, mystery and danger. Women weren’t safe in the 1600s, no matter where they were. Men couldn’t always be trusted, and Johanna has to be incredibly vigilant and aware of her surroundings, the threat of danger looming, forever on the cusp.

Floriane also finds herself in some potentially dangerous situations, particularly when she’s working against her husband and trying to catch him out for his thievery and dishonesty. Roxane builds tension with slow and measured scenes — The Orphan of Good Hope is a slow-build, a historical novel simmering with intrigue and possibility.

“Time on board ship passed slowly but, still, days eventually turned into weeks, and there were even moments when time got away from Johanna.”

Recommended for fans of historical fiction, and sweeping sagas with a large cast and a faraway setting.

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Orphan of Good Hope
Roxane Dhand
September 2020
Penguin Book Publishers Australia